


i give you all of my blood (but it's not enough)

by j_wright



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_wright/pseuds/j_wright
Summary: Jay was forgotten. Tim was dead.





	i give you all of my blood (but it's not enough)

**Author's Note:**

> fuck I haven't written in FOREVER.  
> title is from a The Longshot song i forget the name of but it was good.  
> sorry for sad angst but the whole tim leaving Jay behind ordeal still gets to me.

Jay's crying. Jay's screaming. He's kicking and flailing and having a tantrum like a four year old. He can feel his wrists bleed as they rub against his bonds – thick zip ties tightened like a vice, holding him like a lassoed steed. He’s so frustrated, so horribly sad – he feels forgotten, dejected, thrown to the side, thrown out like an old couch.

“I thought I could trust you! I thought you trusted me!” Jay chokes out with a thick yell. “We were a team, we worked together! I TRUST YOU WITH MY LIFE, AND YOU LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!?” Jay can't see anymore, his eye’s are releasing all the water he has left in his body.

Jay gave everything for him. He gave up his safety, his sanity, his virginity, his everything. Everything Jay had he gave to him, this back-stabbing-fuck of a friend, a partner that he thought he knew, a person who got to know him for him, for his faults and his fears. They were gonna finish this whole thing together, they were finally going to be safe and they would be able to go back and finish school and get jobs and live together and put all of this behind him, behind them.

“I would have taken a fucking bullet for you! I would have killed myself to protect you!” Jay spits in anger – his mouth is so dry, when did it get so dry? “You hear me? All of the fucking blood in my body belonged to you, and you drank it all, left me as a fucking husk of a human. YOU'RE LEAVING ME TO FUCKING DIE, YOU ASSHOLE!” Jay let out a long, hard sob, raking through his chest like a murderous claw. “I’m a fucking husk without you here.”

 

Tim peers through the gap in the door, feeling tears well and spill, tipping over the surface tension and falling free to the sand carpet beneath him. He hears him scream and cry, retch and flail, hears each curse fall from his lips like another knife in his head. Tim's got a hand over his own mouth, blocking the sobs, the screams, the curses that will themselves to break free, making a levy fit to hold a monsoon.

“HOW COULD YOU FUCKING DO THIS TO ME!?” Tim hurdles out a sob, choking and coughing behind Jay's screams.

“It was never supposed to go like this,” Tim whispers into his own palm, hearing the words echo back and remind him of his own mortality. It never was supposed to go like this. They talked about having a future, about maybe having kids, living together, coexisting, making each other truly happy.

“No one was supposed to die,” Tim chokes on his own words. “We were never supposed to die.”

Tim slips the door shut just as Jay let’s out another scream. Tim follows, letting out a harsh wail, crunching into his form and feeling his body break, his heart snap in two as the love of his life lays behind, forever waiting for him to come back.

Tim knows he won’t.

 

It’s been hours. The camera's already died. The sun’s already set. Jay's voice has already depleted and resorted to a rocky rumble. He can feel the scales grow on his tongue from the lack of moisture. His eyes have stopped making rain, nothing comes out.

Jay hears a door creek open. He let’s out a silent, airy yell, choking out more nothingness.

It isn’t Tim. It's some guy in a tan jacket. Jay can’t see his face.

He feels something hit him in the chest, a bag of some kind. He can hear a full bottle of water sloshing around inside.

He feels a cool pair of scissors rest on his wrists. A simple snip let’s his hands fall downwards. His arms fall like dead leaves in an autumn breeze, cracked and dead.

Jay doesn’t even reach for the water. He's a husk, a dead plant forgotten, left to rot.

He lays like the dead leaf he is.


End file.
